


Scars

by ZoeSong



Series: Always a Stark [8]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Season 7 rewrite, Sisterhood, Sisters, Stark Sisters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-14
Updated: 2018-04-14
Packaged: 2019-04-22 17:10:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14313342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZoeSong/pseuds/ZoeSong
Summary: “Fix” for the scene in episode 706 in which Arya confronts Sansa about her ruling Winterfell while Jon is gone, questions why Sansa has their parents’ room, and accuses her of doing so because she likes “nice things.” The story picks up immediately after that line.





	Scars

**Author's Note:**

  * For [swimmingfox](https://archiveofourown.org/users/swimmingfox/gifts).



> Many thanks to Swimmingfox for story feedback and editing. Thanks also to UnderTheSkyline for episode research.

~~

[](http://imgur.com/ywLEo6T)  


~~

 

Sansa’s face grew pale and for a moment, Arya thought she was going to get beastly angry as she sometimes did when they were children, usually when Arya had done something to tease her.

But Sansa only stared at Arya, blinking and taking deep breaths as if unable to speak, then turned, very slowly, and walked to the door. Arya thought she was going to leave. 

Instead, Sansa shut the door and bolted it. Then, still facing the door, she threw off her fur shawl and with trembling hands began to unlace the back of her dress. 

Arya took a step towards the door. “Sansa? What are you doing?”

Her sister didn’t answer, but continued to loosen the laces until her dress fell forward from her shoulders, exposing her chemise. Sansa then hiked up her chemise to reveal her back.

Arya was confused. What on earth was Sansa doing? Had she gone mad? 

But Sansa just stood there, as if waiting. And then Arya saw. Scars, hideous scars – much like the one she had on her belly from being stabbed in Braavos. Arya walked a little closer. There were dozens of them – little half circles and slices, some welted up in ugly red scars, others smooth as if tended carefully by a maester. And she could see that they continued around Sansa’s body – they seemed to be everywhere.

Arya drew even closer and could see that Sansa was shaking. Not from the cold, for the room was warm. Touching Sansa gently on the shoulder, Arya tugged a little at her chemise, urging her to release it. “Let me help you lace up again.”

Sansa dropped the fabric and allowed Arya to smooth her chemise and smallclothes, and Arya slowly laced the dress back up, retrieving the fur shawl collar and replacing it. Sansa hadn’t moved from the door. 

Taking Sansa’s arm, Arya gently led her over to the fireplace, guiding her to a chair. It was like Sansa was in a trance. 

Arya sat down beside her. “Who did that to you?”

When she finally answered, Sansa’s voice was like death. “My husband. Ramsay Bolton.”

“Why would he do such a thing?”

Sansa’s eyes were fixed on the fire. “He was a monster.”

“Like Joffrey.”

Her sister gave a mirthless laugh. “Ramsay would have had Joffrey for supper.”

Arya considered this for a moment. “Why did you marry him?”

Sansa gave a choking cough, and Arya realized that she was trying not to cry. “I was stupid. Lord Baelish convinced me that I could manipulate Ramsay – that I could take back Winterfell from the inside.” She stopped, taking a deep breath. “Instead, Ramsay locked me in my own room and tortured me every night.” Sansa glanced at her quickly, then looked back to her hands, whispering, “That’s why I can’t be in that room.”

Remorse swept over Arya. How could she have so misjudged her sister? “I’m…I’m sorry.” There weren’t proper words for something like this. 

Sansa did not look at her. “I keep trying to put it behind me. Each day I think I’m doing better, but then some sound, or word, or just a footstep in the hall brings it all crashing back down on me.”

Arya recalled her own nightmares – hearing things that reminded her of when they killed Father. And Sansa probably had even worse memories of that haunting her too – for she had _seen_ it. Arya wondered why had she been so suspicious of Sansa. 

But Sansa was saying something, in a low voice. “Jon has been very good to me. Better than I deserve. He insisted I take this room. He said he preferred to have Robb’s room, that it made him feel closer to him, especially since they were both named King in the North.”

Arya murmured, “Of course.”

“You should have been there – when they named him king. When _she_ named him king. Little Lyanna Mormont. She was splendid. As I’ve never been. I was so proud of him. Our brother. And all because of what he did, how he was.”

Arya saw that Sansa still wasn’t quite herself. 

“In truth, I don’t suppose Jon was all that keen to take this room as it had been Mother’s. She wasn’t very kind to him – nor was I.” Sansa gave a little sob, then seemed to fight to control herself. “That was one of the first things I said to him after my teeth stopped chattering at Castle Black. To apologize. But he would hardly let me – he said there was nothing to apologize for.” She sobbed again, then turned to Arya. “Oh, Arya, he has become such a good man, so like Father. Every day I pray that he will be safe and return. And now even more, for I know he longs to see you again.”

Arya felt her stomach tighten. How would Jon feel about how she’d accused Sansa? But she only laid her hand on Sansa’s, and said calmly, “And I long to see him. I’m sure he will return safely soon.”

Sansa nodded and sank back in the chair. “I’m so tired.” 

Arya suddenly realized how much of her sister’s regal demeanor had been an act, to instill confidence in others. Arya thought about all the things being re-built outside and saw how much of that was Sansa’s doing, her way of pouring her grief and horror into good. “You should rest. Let me help you with things.”

Sansa looked up and slightly askance at her. “Really? You would do that?”

“Of course – it’s my home too. I wouldn’t want Jon to think I stood by while you did all the work.”

“He would never think that.”

They sat quietly for a little while, and Arya saw that Sansa had closed her eyes. She thought perhaps that her sister had fallen asleep. She waited a little while, letting her rest. But curiosity got the better of her, and she finally asked, “Sansa?”

“Hmm? Sorry, I suppose I am even more tired than I thought.”

“It’s all right. But I wanted to ask you something. Don’t get mad.”

“I won’t. What is it?” She seemed to wake up a bit.

“Why is Baelish here?” She resisted saying what she thought of him, in case Sansa really trusted him.

Sansa sighed, and straightened. And kept her voice low. “He is our cousin Robin’s guardian – Lord Protector of the Vale. He commands the Knights of the Vale. Without him here, they might leave and Jon would lose the majority of his army.”

“I see. But – I don’t trust him.”

“I know.” Sansa’s voice dropped to barely a whisper. “I don’t either – he lied to me and sold me to the Boltons. But I am the one who summoned him here – without the Knights of the Vale we could not have taken back Winterfell. How can I ask him to leave? And even if I did, I don’t know how to get rid of him without losing the Vale.”

Arya leaned closer to Sansa. “I can’t believe those men are loyal to him – you can see that underneath their formality to him, they are seething with hate.”

Sansa looked at Arya with interest. “Yes. I have seen it too. They – especially Lord Royce – resent him, see him as a usurper.”

“Then we have to exploit that. Catch him in what he’s plotting now and prove to everyone what he really is.”

“But how? And how will that save us the Vale?”

“Lord Royce supports you. He agreed with Lord Glover that you should rule. I wanted to kill them both for that, but if they really feel that way, then surely they will support you – and Jon – if we can get Baelish out of the way.”

“He’s very wily – and I feel sure that he has some of the servants working for him.”

“Oh, I know he does – even the maester is helping him.”

“What do you mean? I trust the maester completely.”

“Do you? Why? I thought he was here when the Boltons were.”

“He was. But he helped me.”

“He had to. To heal your wounds, so you’d stay alive for them.”

“No. Well, yes, he did. But he also brought me moon tea. He seemed to know that I wouldn’t want to bear Ramsay a child. Ramsay would have flayed him for it if he’d have known.”

Arya nodded thoughtfully. “That’s good to know. Then the maester isn’t knowingly helping Baelish. He must think he is helping _you_.”

Sansa nodded emphatically. “Yes. That must be it. But what has he done?”

“He gave Baelish this.” Arya handed the tiny scroll to Sansa.

Sansa’s eyes widened as she began to unroll it. She read it silently, her hands beginning to shake. “Why would he have this? Where did you get it?”

“It was in Baelish’s mattress.”

“You searched his room? He will know.”

“Yes. He’s been watching me. And he knows that I’m watching him. Just as I want him to.”

Sansa shook her head in confusion. “I don’t understand.”

“He knows I’ve been suspicious of you. I’m sure he wants to encourage it.”

“Aren’t you now?”

Arya looked deeply into Sansa eyes. “No. I was wrong. I’m sorry. I’ve never been a very good sister to you. I always felt inferior to you. But I have other skills now. We have to help each other – be the pack that Father used to speak of.”

Sansa nodded, her eyes filling with tears.

“Baelish wants to pit us against each other. So we’ll let him think he is. He wanted me to find this so I’d confront you with it. So I will. Publically. In front of Royce and Glover and the others. So you’ll have to defend yourself.”

“But they may find it damning.”

“No they won’t. Because we will have already spoken to them.”

“But I…I am not good at lying. He will know if I am trying to play act.”

“Then don’t. I know how to get you upset. Just react as if it’s real. But we’ll have a signal, so you’ll remember that it’s not. Then you’ll confide in Baelish and get him to reveal his plan against me.”

“You think he wants me to act against you.”

“I’m sure of it. He wants you and Winterfell for himself.”

“He wants the Iron Throne.”

Arya laughed. “That’s ridiculous. He could no more be king than I could.”

“He wants to be king and wants me to be his queen.”

Arya raised her eyebrows.

“I don’t want to be anyone’s queen. It is enough to be lady of Winterfell. I’m not even sure I want to be that.”

“No, you’re a good lady of Winterfell. No one must take that from you.”

Sansa’s face crumpled as she fought tears. “Thank you.”

Arya reached over and squeezed Sansa’s hand. Sansa blinked away her tears and squeezed Arya’s hand too. Arya nodded firmly. “Right. So now we plan. We must be wilier than he is. Leave that to me. And, we’ll get Bran’s help. If he can really see things from all the past, we must see if he can see things from Baelish’s past – and from Glover’s and Royce’s and maybe a few others’.”

“Why them?”

“So we can prove to them that his visions are real. So they will support us.”

Sansa looked amazed – and impressed – at Arya’s deviousness.

And so they plotted – together, a Stark pack once again – to take down Petyr Baelish. 

 

~~

**Author's Note:**

> I have situated this within my “Always a Stark” universe, though it contradicts “Sister Wolf” in that Jon is away at Dragonstone, and Bran has already returned. I have also taken some liberties with the timeline of the cat and mouse game that Baelish and Arya were playing. So consider this a merging of S7 and my universe.


End file.
